


It's a Deal

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina National Team, Bolivian National Team, Copa América, Epic Bromance, Football | Soccer, Injury Recovery, It doesn't need a lable, M/M, Maschessi, Romance, So Married, it's love, teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a certain responsibility that comes with being one of Leo's teammates. Sure, it's an honor to play with him--to see the way he moves with the ball, to see the beautiful things he can make the ball do. But just because he and the crowds are in awe of Leo, that doesn't mean that everyone is. </p>
<p>The Bolivians know what Leo can do. And if they can stop him, they will.</p>
<p>And Masche isn’t in the game to protect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahhhhrexa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhhrexa/gifts).



> A rare Leo/Masche story from me. I can't stop writing fics about the national team!

Masche hates not playing, hates that feeling of helplessness that comes with sitting on the bench and not having any power to change what’s going on in the game. But he also understands the game, knows he's on a yellow which won’t be wiped until after the quarterfinals, knows that his team is good enough to play Bolivia without him. If he were coaching, he'd have made the same decision.

It still sucks, though.

And he can't help getting tense when Leo goes on at halftime. They've tightened the security, but the crowd is pushing, screaming, cameras clicking so fast that Masche can't believe it.

It's always the same. But it doesn't get an easier.

There's a certain responsibility that comes with being one of Leo's teammates. Sure, it's an honor to play with him--to see the way he moves with the ball, to see the beautiful things he can make the ball do. But just because he and the crowds are in awe of Leo, that doesn't mean that everyone is.

The Bolivians know what Leo can do. And if they can stop him, they will.

And Masche isn’t in the game to protect him.

Bolivia man marks him, like Masche expected. Number four, Bejarano, follows Leo everywhere, sticks to him like glue, trying to keep Leo from turning and doing what he does best. He even steals the ball a few times.

And Leo has to deal with it, but he's not happy--he doesn't like when teams man mark him. In a way it’s helpful, because it essentially negates Bejarano’s offensive abilities, ties up a Bolivian player for the rest of the game while still distracting the rest (because they all know that it takes more than one player to stop Leo). But he’s still not happy. Bejarano stays with him, floats where Leo floats, tries to contain Leo the best he can.

And for the most part, Bejarano does well.

He's Leo's shadow, pushing a little, tugging Leo's shirt when he can get away with it, but he isn't too physical, and Masche's eyes travel across the field as he tries to predict what Argentina can do to score another. He looks back in time to see Leo get annoyed, to see Bejarano has pushed his luck a little too much.

So Leo plays with the players, showing them the ball and then dancing away. He twists and turns and weaves around, punishing them the only way he can. He's telling them that he can beat them anytime he wants, and if they make him angry, he'll make them pay. It's beautiful to watch, as it always is, but Masche's stomach twists at the same time knowing that eventually Bolivia will get angry.

And they do get angry.

Leo dares Bolivia because he can, because it’s the way he plays. It’s not to offend, it’s to challenge, it’s to make them raise their game, make them lose more energy as they try to keep up.

And then, without knowing the flag is up, Leo nutmegs the keeper.

Masche’s seen it a thousand times. Hell, Leo’s done it to him more times than Masche can count. It never fails to produce oohs and ahs from the crowd, groans from teammates… and aggression from the other team. And Leo doesn’t do it to be an ass—he does it because he sees it as the best way through an opponent.

But it’s still embarrassing, and two minutes later, Bolivia acts.

 

It's not Bejarano, and Masche didn’t expect it would be. Bejarano's only job has to been to contain and wait for help--he's smartly not trying to dive in and tackle.

Number ten, though, Campos, he's angry. And he has no problem taking Leo out.

Campos bites at Leo's heels, but Leo dances away once more, and that's when Campos goes charging in. Masche holds his breath, knowing what's about to happen. Leo sees Campos coming and taps the ball to the side, almost nutmegging the Bolivian while he jumps to avoid the player.

Campos doesn't stop.

He goes in hard, with his knee, right into Leo's side and back—right where the entire world knows Leo is recovering from injury.

Masche doesn't remember getting up, but when the red haze clears from his eyes, he's standing and screaming at the officials on the side of the field.

Masche knows it was intentional.

Campos knows it was intentional.

And Leo knows it was intentional.

Leo might have let it go, but then obviously he hears Campos say something. He gets to his feet and stands his ground, leaning in with his hips like he always does when he gets mad. Facundo is there, trying to separate them, but he's not quick enough. And Leo jerks backwards as Campos shoves him with two hands. Then Pocho is there, and Lucas too. Even Bejarano is in the midst of things, trying to calm Leo.

But Masche isn’t there. Masche isn’t there to protect him.

He clenches his fists at his side, nails digging into his palms so hard that he draws blood, watching as Leo’s eyes spit fire at Campos.

The fourth official motions for him to return to the bench, and with a hard look at Martino, Masche does.

Leo doesn’t appear to be hurt, and in fact, tries a quick brilliant ball towards goal hoping to beat the keeper. It doesn’t go in, but it’s close, and the game continues. The crowds are still screaming, Bejarano is still by Leo’s side, and Masche is still on the bench.

The game ends with the score the same as it was when Leo entered at halftime—something that Masche knows Leo won’t be happy with. But they’ve won and they’ll move on to the semifinals of Copa América.

Masche has bigger things on his mind.

He waits until they’re in the locker room, crowding Leo up towards the wall, regardless of who’s watching. Pocho and Pipita raise their hands and get out of the way, laughing. “Are you hurt?” Masche says, hands on Leo’s hips, thumbing Leo’s waistband. “Let me see,” Masche demands immediately, moving to raise up Leo’s underarmor when Leo doesn't answer right away.

Leo sighs, rolling his eyes, but drops Bejarano’s Bolivian jersey onto the floor and pulls his undershirt up over his head.

Masche immediately zeros in on Leo’s side and the small of his back, tugging Leo’s shorts and then undershorts and underwear down to expose his bare hip and the top of his ass. “Are you hurt?” he repeats, gentling his touch, probing carefully at where the skin is still bruised. He can’t tell if there are any new marks, Leo’s skin still flushed from the game, and he looks up to see Leo’s blinking at him and smiling.

“I’m okay,” Leo says softly, skin slick with sweat and hair mussed from running his hands through it. “It’s alright.” He shakes his head. “He tried to get me, but he didn’t.”

“I should have been there,” Masche hisses, squatting down to peer closer at Leo’s hip. He eyes the fading purple and green splotches. “You’re sure?” he asks, carefully feeling around and pressing cautiously at the base of Leo's spine. He knows the trainers will be checking Leo momentarily, making sure everything is healing as it should, and Leo's not in any new pain... But Masche wants to see for himself.

“If you’d been there,” Leo murmurs, looking down at him fondly, “you’d have probably been carded.” He places a hand on Masche’s head. “I’m fine.” His eyes are dark, and he looks tired, but the smile is still playing around his lips.

Masche stares up at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Alright,” he says, relieved, standing up again. He's about to say more, but Kun walks by and slaps Leo on the ass.

"He's fine, aren't you, boludo?" Kun says, laughing as Masche pushes him away and bares his teeth. "Campos probably just wanted to know if that was real." He makes squeezing motions with his hands and then waggles his eyebrows.

"Fuck off, Kun," Masche mutters, shielding Leo from view as Leo pulls his clothing back up. "Asshole," Masche says, once Leo's bottom layers are back in place.

Leo laughs and wraps his arms around Masche. "Come on, now. Forget him," Leo murmurs, hands hot on the back of Masche's neck. “Look at me, okay?”

Masche glares daggers at Kun for a moment, but then obeys, meeting Leo’s gaze.

“Everything is fine,” Leo says quietly. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine,” he says, holding onto Masche. “Because we’re moving onto the semifinals, and I know you’re going to be out there with me when we win it.” He presses his forehead to Masche’s and closes his eyes. “Isn’t that something to be happy about?”

Masche sighs, closing his own eyes and breathing deeply.

"We'll win it for you, this year," Masche whispers, not wanting to be overheard. He doesn't mention last year or the year before, doesn't mention the last Copa América or the World Cup, doesn't mention the countless tournaments that have ended with them going home empty handed.

It all fucking hurt, but seeing Leo making himself sick from crying--that hurt the most.

Masche hated that, hated that feeling. And he wasn't going to let it happen again.

"Don't make promises," Leo whispers back, holding Masche tighter, both of them knowing this is the last place they should be discussing this. There's chattering all around them, the sounds of music and laughter growing as more and more players enter the locker room.

Their teammates walk by without interrupting, but Masche can feel people looking at them. He straightens up and opens his eyes, watching as Leo does the same. "We'll win it for you," Masche repeats, meaning it with every part of his body. He cups Leo's face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone.

Leo smiles at him, leaning into the touch. "Maybe I'll win it for you," he murmurs, cocking his head. He bites his lower lip between his teeth and looks up at Masche through his lashes like he thinks he's clever.

He's so fucking cute that it makes Masche's heart ache.

Masche rewards him with a smile. "Okay then," he says, dropping his hand so he can lean in and kiss Leo on the cheek. "We'll win it for you, and you win it for me. It's a deal."

If they were alone, he'd push Leo against the wall and kiss him until they were both breathless.

But since they're not, he restrains himself and merely brushes his lips against Leo's skin. Someone catcalls behind them amidst a chorus of laughter. Masche throws up the finger, torn between being embarrassed and being irritated, ready to turn around and glare them all into submission.

But then he sees Leo's shining eyes and pink lips.

"Fuck it," Masche growls.

He pushes Leo up against the wall.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, come on. They're married. Look at them :)
> 
>  


End file.
